


Tickle

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fetish, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, M/M, Praise Kink, Pre-Relationship, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Wade Wilson discovers that Spider-Man really likes to be tickled. In fact, he doesn't just like it, he loves it.





	Tickle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Infinity456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinity456/gifts).



> Here is some wild smut.  
> For a prompt on the Isn't It Bromantic? Discord from foxtrot:  
> 'I just want something where Wade accidentally finds out Spidey is ticklish af and keeps taking advantage of his newfound knowledge. But then, to Peter's horror, he keeps getting aroused by it and Wade def notices. Which obv leads to them hooking up.'

Wade is feeling pretty good. It’s approaching sunrise, and he’s sitting on the edge of a building, looking down at the orange streaks rising in the sky. He’s trying to decide what the best memory of the night is. Was it the moment Spidey leapt in through the window of the warehouse he was standing in and kicked the guy attacking him in the face? Was it the moment Spidey used his back as a springboard to leap up into the rafters before leaping down to kick yet another guy? Was it the moment Spidey turned to him and tipped him a salute before jumping off into the night?

[Look, whichever way you look at it, it’s been a good night.]

Wade nods, smiling to himself. He loves getting to work with Spider-Man. It helps that the guy is hot as fuck, his small body sinful and sinewy, but he’s also hilarious.

If he’s honest with himself, Wade Wilson has got a small crush on the web slinger.

{We’re head over heels for him, you mean.}

He smiles beneath the mask, taking his pistol from its holster and examining it. He’ll need to give it a good clean when he gets home. His shoulder is stinging from the guy who drove a sword through it.

What a good fight.

He hears soft feet land on the roof behind him.

“Don’t shoot me,” a familiar voice says quickly. “It’s only me.”

[Holy shit.]

_ Only me _ is Spider-Man. Wade turns around, staring as his hero strides across the rooftop lightly. It is impossible not to be impressed by the guy’s body. Spidey is wonderful, and Wade has spent many nights in the two years they’ve known each other picturing what’s beneath all that spandex.

“How did you know I was here?” Wade asks him.

“Easy. I just looked for the ridiculously huge mercenary spoiling the view.” Spider-Man sits down beside him.

“Are you here to web me up and leave me for the police? Because we both committed a similar number of crimes tonight. I didn’t even kill anyone.” Wade’s been trying his best to do less of the whole  _ murder _ thing Spidey seems to dislike so much.

Spider-Man snorts. “No, you asshole. You’re always asking me to hang out after we work together. I thought maybe I should.” He pauses. “You know, just to be polite.” He hesitates, then pulls off his mask.

{We’re fucked now.}

He is lovely. More than lovely. The hair which moves in the early morning breeze is brown, but it glows almost golden where the light hits it. He is younger than Wade, maybe in his mid-twenties, with clear, creamy skin and huge, soft brown eyes.

“I don’t understand why you even wear a mask,” Wade tells him. “There’s no way anyone could consider shooting you with those doe eyes, baby.”

Spider-Man rolls those eyes at him. He offers Wade his hand. “My name’s Peter. Don’t call me baby.”

“Peter.” Wade takes his fingers, and marvels at the feeling of the smaller hand in his own. “My name is-”

“Wade Wilson,” Peter laughs, and he gets small creases at the corners of his eyes when he does so. “It’s not exactly a big secret, Deadpool.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here,” Wade says, staring at Peter, who is watching the sunrise with a happy expression. “If you didn’t come here to arrest me or whatever…”

Peter glances at him, a small frown on his face. “Can’t I just want to hang out with you?”

[Nobody  _ ever _ wants that.]

{You’re an unpleasant freak.}

Wade’s feelings must be clear in his body language, because Peter reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. “Wade, seriously. You are an exasperating weirdo, but you make me laugh.” His fingers inch a little higher, and something like curiosity crosses his face as he edges them beneath Deadpool’s mask.

“Hey, baby, you don’t want to do that,” Wade tells him firmly. Spidey- Peter- is almost ridiculously beautiful. He is going to be horrified to see Wade’s hideous face in its full, disgusting glory up close.

“I clearly do,” Peter replies, but his fingers fall still. A different tone comes into his voice, one Wade has never heard there before. “Can I… can I see? I have my mask off. You’ve seen my face.”

“The difference is that I look like an irradiated nutsack under here, whereas you look like a model.”

Peter snorts. “I definitely don’t,” he replies. He digs the fingers of his spare hand into Wade’s ribs in a motion he mustn’t even think about; it’s a familiar, friendly thing to do, just one beautiful superhero tickling his ugly pal in a light-hearted fashion.

Wade isn’t especially ticklish, and the fingers digging into his skin mostly just make his constant aching a little worse. But his response is almost as automatic as Peter’s initial movement must have been; he digs his fingers into Peter’s narrow waist, wriggling them against the solid muscle there.

Peter lets out a cry which is simply delightful to Wade; in all of their work together, he has never made such a helpless noise. The hand which was resting by his mask curls and clenches around Wade’s shoulder. His entire body quakes against Wade.

[Is this the best day of our life?]

“I can’t believe my little neighbourhood Spider-Man is so ticklish,” Wade chuckles, lifting his hand away and leaning back to look at Peter.

{Huh.}

The younger man is blushing furiously, a delightful blackberry-coloured stain which brushes his cheeks and runs down his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. He is quite clearly  _ not looking _ at Wade, breathing heavily.

Wade cocks his head, a lovely thought taking root. “Did you… did you  _ enjoy _ that, Spidey?”

“Shut up,” Peter replies, leaping up suddenly in a very graceful fashion. He turns his body away from Wade, who is now starting to seriously wonder if his favourite hero is sporting a visible erection. “I’m going to go now. It was nice to…” His words trail off and he gives Wade a wide-eyed, ashamed look before pulling his mask on and swinging from the roof.

Well.

* * *

Wade spends the next two weeks furiously masturbating over Peter. How delightful it is to know that his little Spider-Man is a gloriously beautiful, shy man with a weird fetish for being tickled. Spidey is so wonderfully competent and strong. It is beyond arousing to imagine him beneath Wade, wriggling desperately to escape Wade’s tickling fingers.

They come across each other next splitting up a bar fight.

Well, that’s not quite true. Spider-Man arrives to a bar to find that a bald man with scarred skin and an impressive muscle definition has managed to get into a fight with four armed men. Three tables are on fire, and Wade is brandishing two broken bottles.

Spider-Man springs in lightly through the window and sticks himself to the wall, staring down right as Wade jams one of the bottles into the face of a man rushing at him with a machete drawn.

[Brilliant timing.]

“Hey, drunken morons!” Spidey says, raising his hand. “How about we stop this nonsense and all go for a kebab?”

One of the men- the idiot with the gun- shoots at the wall, and Wade’s reaction is fully automatic; he throws himself to the side, catching the bullet rather painfully in his left shoulder. Of course, Spidey’s reflexes are even better than his own, and the sticky little bastard could have easily avoided the bullet without Wade Wilson’s ridiculous intervention, but never mind.

“Hey!” Spidey shouts, shooting a spurt of web at the gun and pulling it out of the man’s hand. “That was quite rude.”

“You’re telling me,” Wade replies grumpily, rubbing his shoulder.

The remaining three bad guys and Spidey all stare at him, apparently confused that he’s doing so well after being shot, despite the copious amount of blood spurting out of his wound and soaking the light blue hoodie he’s wearing.

Wade takes advantage of this to throw a broken bottle into the face of the nearest bad guy. As the guy crumples to the floor and Spidey groans, Wade leaps up onto a thankfully not-aflame bar stool and jumps towards another of the guys he got into a fight with, kicking him cleanly in the face with enough force to cause unconsciousness.

Spidey shoots web into the face of the guy who tried to shoot him and then webs him to the ceiling. He turns to Wade with his hands on his hips. “Tell me you didn’t start this fight.”

“They were bad guys, Spidey, I swear. I overheard them talking about how they were going to sell some guns. So I told them I fucked their wives.”

“So you  _ did  _ start this fight.” Peter pinches the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Damn it, Wade.”

“How did you know it was me?” Wade asks.

“After you wouldn’t take your fucking mask off I just Googled you,” Peter tells him, folding his arms.

“It’s not pretty, is it?” Wade asks sadly.

“There’s nothing wrong with your face, but stop trying to change the subject, you asshole. Help me carry these idiots out of this now  _ flaming _ bar before we all get toasted, okay?”

This is the Spidey with whom Wade is most familiar: the capable, vaguely infuriated hero. Wade smiles at him, trying not to picture tackling the little delight to the floor and tickling him. He lifts two of the unconscious guys easily, one beneath each arm, and carries them to the alley. Peter is behind him, dragging the other two along by webs.

They leave them in a small pile, all webbed together. Peter stands over them, his hands on his hips in the same gesture he made before; Wade is convinced the young hero stole this position from Captain America.

[Just do it.]

Wade sneaks up behind him and digs both hands into Peter’s waist. He has no idea how he gets away with it- Spidey’s senses are legendary, and he’s almost impossible to creep up on. That said, perhaps his senses have wrongly coded Wade as safe.

Peter makes the same wonderful sound he made last time, a sort of helpless, desperate cry, and his hands curl around Wade’s wrists, his body convulsing. But he isn’t trying to get away. His hands are gripping firmly, but not pulling the tickling digits back from his own waist. His hips press backwards, his ass firmly grinding into Wade’s crotch in a way which is hard to mistake.

“I see,” Wade murmurs, bending his face to brush his lips against Peter’s ear through the mask. The young hero makes a sound that can only accurately be described as a  _ moan _ in response. “You like being tickled.”

“Deadpool, please,” Peter manages, in a strangled voice. “Please don’t.”

Wade isn’t a monster, and he stops moving his fingers the moment Peter asks him to. Still pressed against him, Peter is trembling, his whole delicious body vibrating against Wade. He is panting.

“I need to sort out… this,” Peter mumbles, gesturing at the pile of unconscious men. “And you need to go heal your shoulder.”

This is a fact which Wade cannot really argue against. He brushes his fingers slowly down Peter’s sides, making him hiss, then draws back.

“We’re not done with this,” he tells Peter.

* * *

They are indeed not done with it. Wade wakes up several hours later, his shoulder feeling a lot better, to discover that Spider-Man is perched on the edge of his bed.

[What the fuck?]

“Hey, baby,” Wade says, yawning and sitting up. He went to bed naked, as usual, and the soft sheets pool at his waist. He is very aware that an awful lot of his awful skin is visible. “How did you find out where I live?”

“I just asked Natasha,” Peter replies, tugging off his mask to reveal that glorious face. “I think she thought we were going to have a fight. She seemed to find the idea of me kicking your ass funny.”

Wade snorts. “We can try it if you like, baby. I am prepared to bet that even half-asleep and naked I’d do a fairly good job against you.”

“Maybe another day. I had something else in mind.”

“Did you?” Wade asks softly. This has to be some sort of weird dream. “Well, you’re in my bed, and you were recently pressed against me trembling and quite clearly turned on. So I’m going to assume you want me to fuck you unless you make it very clear that you’re after something else.”

Peter looks momentarily terrified. Those beautiful, innocent eyes sweep Wade’s face and torso then blink closed, his thick eyelashes resting on his pale cheeks. Wade notices that his hands are shaking. “You’re always nice to me,” Peter manages, his eyes still closed. “You drive me crazy, and I’m not entirely sure which way your moral compass actually points, but I’ve had a bit of a… a crush on you for a while.”

Wade cocks his head. His stomach feels as though something very much alive is living in it and doing some sort of pilates class. “You have a crush on Deadpool? You, the model-perfect superhero, have a crush on me, a guy who looks like-”

“You look wonderful,” Peter says firmly, his eyes opening again. “Have you even  _ seen _ yourself? You’re this enormous, muscular guy in leather and spandex. Who the hell wouldn’t want to fuck you?”

Wade thinks this is possibly a stupid question, but he doesn’t want to argue with Spidey when the strange guy is here confessing to having the worst taste in men imaginable.

“You have a lovely smile,” Peter adds, more softly. “And you have the nicest eyes. Anyway, I’d come over the other morning to see you and maybe tell you all of this, but then you tickled me…”

“... And you got a raging boner?” Wade guesses.

Peter goes scarlet. “I’ve always found tickling to be a bit… arousing.”

“So you followed me home to see if you could persuade me to tickle you.” Wade is sitting forward now, leaning towards the terrified Spidey he seems to have lured into his bed by accident. “And then what? Do you want me to fuck you?”

Peter looks away, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea,” he says quietly.

{You’ve finally died and gone to heaven.}

“Couples don’t usually start with something so kinky,” Wade observes, reaching out and grabbing Peter’s arms, tugging him into his lap.

“Couples?” Peter replies with a snort, straddling Wade through the blanket.

“Why not? You clearly want me, my little masochist.”

“Can you please fuck me first and then ask me about this?” Peter says, exasperated.

“Whatever you ask for, my kinky little arachnid.” Wade runs his hands down Peter’s sides, enjoying the feeling of his firm muscles beneath the smooth spandex. When he reaches the slightly softer curve of Peter’s hips, his young lover laughs then whimpers, bucking his hips towards Wade. “Who would have thought it? I often wondered what your kinks were. This never even occurred to me.”

Peter lets out a gasp as the tips of Wade’s fingers dig softly into his flesh. “What… did you think?” he asks, breathily.

“Bondage, definitely, all that webbing. Power play generally. Maybe a gun kink…”

“You hoped I had that,” Peter says, sardonic even as Wade increases the pressure of the tickling, making him writhe deliciously in Wade’s lap. “I always thought you probably had a thing for using them in bed.”

Wade smiles, bending forward to brush his lips across Peter’s soft, pleasantly-scented throat. “You’ll see next time, I guess.”

Peter whimpers. Wade is tickling him hard now, and Spidey seems to have fully lost control of his body, his arms wrapped firmly around Wade’s back and his thighs tensed around Wade’s. The curve of his erection is indeed clearly visible through his costume. Wade slides one hand down to brush against it, delighting in the moan Peter lets out.

“I want you out of this,” Wade instructs, tugging at the spandex.

“Yes,” Peter mumbles in an agreeable way that makes Wade’s dick hard. He decides that he loves seeing Spider-Man like this, all flustered and eager and submissive. Spidey pulls his suit off easily, wriggling in Wade’s lap and revealing a small, beautiful body. His skin is soft, and there is a mild smattering of moles across the surface. In no time at all, he is sat in Wade’s lap, fully naked, his erection in his fingers.

“Look at you,” Wade murmurs, biting the vulnerable skin at Peter’s collarbone. “So eager and good. If I’d known that tickling you would turn you into such a slut, I would have done it months ago.”

The beautiful berry-coloured stain that is Peter’s blush goes all the way down to his chest. Wade fingers the edges of it before tickling Peter again, rolling them over so that Peter is pinned beneath him, his body quaking helplessly, his hips bucking up against him. The blankets have somehow been lost in their rolling, and now there is a lot of Wade’s hot, naked skin pressing into Peter’s hot, naked skin.

Wade pauses to look down at Spidey. He is flushed, his eyes wide, his dick leaking and swollen. Who could have predicted that this perfect specimen of a human would find Wade Wilson so impossibly attractive?

[There’s something wrong with him, too.]

Wade ignores the doubts and bends his head to take Peter’s length into his mouth, brushing his fingers down the sensitive skin of Peter’s thighs as he does so. The combination of tickling and having his cock sucked makes Spidey whimper and moan, one of his hands coming round to gently wrap around the back of Wade’s head.

He is  _ delicious.  _ Wade hums around Peter’s dick, still tickling his thighs softly, and the poor fallen hero bucks helplessly into Wade’s throat.

“You’ve been so good,” Wade whispers, drawing back slightly and watching the desperation cross poor Peter’s face. “I’m going to make you cum like this, and then I’m going to fuck you into my mattress.”

Peter cries out and Wade swallows around his dick again, increasing the pressure of his tickling fingers. It takes mere seconds before Peter is finishing in his mouth, crying out Wade’s name over and over again.

Wade swallows it, sitting back and examining the fragile-looking hero in his bed.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.

“Deadpool… Wade… please....”

Peter’s pleading is the biggest turn-on Wade can imagine, and he is grinning to himself as he reaches for the bottle of lubricant he keeps in his bedside table. He oils his fingers up carefully, working one into Peter gently, rejoicing in the way the smaller man squeezes around him. He slips in a second finger, then a third, and Peter is full and rocking onto his hand greedily, his eyes closed and a lovely sheen of sweat on his body.

“You are such a needy little thing,” Wade tells him, kissing his lips, then his neck. “Look at you, practically fucking my hand yourself. You want me to fuck you, don’t you, baby?”

“Please,” Peter gasps. “Please, fuck me, Wade.”

Wade pulls out his fingers slowly, making Peter whine, then replaces them with his dick, barely able to resist swearing loudly as he does so. Peter is so tight and slick, his body pressing desperately against his, his own cock becoming hard again as Wade penetrates him.

“Who would have imagined that Spider-Man would come to Deadpool’s bed and beg him to fuck him?” Wade wonders aloud, once his dick is fully embedded in Peter.

“I didn’t beg-”

“I believe you said ‘please’. And I’m not going to move until you do beg, baby boy,” Wade says cheerfully. He is desperate to pound into Peter, but the thought of making innocent, righteous Spidey beg for him to fuck him is far too arousing to ignore.

“I…” Peter is scarlet again, clearly embarrassed, and Wade combats this by digging his fingers forcefully into the hero’s ribs. He feels Peter squeezing around his dick at the tickling, his body reacting automatically. “Please, Wade,” he screams. “Please, I’m begging, I’m  _ begging _ !”

“Good boy,” Wade praises, and Peter cries out as the mercenary starts to slam into him, burying his face in Peter’s shoulder.

It is  _ good _ . Peter’s hot, tight body convulses around him, and he wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, desperately trying to take as much of Wade’s length as possible. The younger man has absolutely come to pieces beneath him, his dick hard again, one hand working it desperately as his other digs into Wade’s shoulder.

“I’m going to cum in you,” Wade tells him. “And I want you to cum for me, too.”

“Y-yes…”

Waves of pleasure wash over Wade, and he bites down on Peter’s shoulder as his orgasm hits, his body pumping into Peter. Peter reacts beautifully to being filled up, his own orgasm following almost immediately, and he groans.

They lie together, sticky and sated. Wade tries to sit up, tries to pull out of Peter, but his body is limp.

“Well,” Peter mumbles against his ear, “that was probably not what Natasha expected when she asked if I thought this visit would get physical.”

Wade laughs. “I bet she’s secretly been shipping us this whole time, baby boy. We seem to work quite well together.”

Peter shoves him in a good-natured fashion. “Sure, this whole thing seems very functional.”

Wade grins, finally working up the strength to roll off Peter. “Well… it doesn’t at all. But I meant what I said before.” His grin disappears, a sudden rush of nerves working through him. “I do like you and I’d like to…”

“Don’t be an asshole. I said I had a crush on you. I’m not just going to leave and never come back.”

[Oh.]

“Oh.” Wade pulls Peter close, cuddling against him. “Does that mean we get to do this again?”

Peter laughs. “Sure. As long as you never tell anyone that Spider-Man gets turned on when someone tickles him. Can you imagine? I’d never win a fight again.”


End file.
